our fire wandering off to the beckoning planet
by Clarice Waters
Summary: I attempted to do one of those prompt tables for the Viktor/Hermione pairing but only managed 32 of the 100 prompts before losing interest. Heres what I came up with. It's cronological but there are bigs gaps in time so it may get a tad confusing.


32/100

**35. Sixth Sense**

Slowly he scanned the room's occupants with the weary indifference of a man half dead. He was tired, and the droning voice of the British Minister of Magic was not helping. Then he froze. Standing quietly between a gangly red head and a boy with unkept black hair and glasses was a girl. An ethereal being of light and wild mahogany almost-curls. She smiled and the negative space around her, lucky enough to be so close, came alight with her luminescence. _I am going to marry her one day._

**4. First**

One of the first things he'd ever learnt about her was something quite strangely un-brittish. Steaming cup in hand her head had fallen to the shoulder of that messy haired boy from the world cup, emitting a brief but pleasurable moan.

'If they don't have coffee in heaven', she'd said. 'Then I'm not going.

**34. Not Enough**

Her body elongated before him, toe to tips, as she stretched to pull a thick tomb from the over stacked shelf above. He could only watch, entranced, over a tomb of his own as she moved. She was grace personified. It had been the most he'd seen of her in days. And it wasn't nearly enough.

**17. Brown**

Discreetly Vlad tuned back in just as Viktor was finishing. '.....Chocolate, Coffee, life giving soil. But _not _are they _just_beingbrown.' Vlad rose his hands quickly in mock surrender before he could start in on words to describe her hair.

'Vat?'

'Noffing, Noffing.' He smiled. 'You haff it bad, my friend.'

**90. It**

He had become fluent in _it_ since their introduction weeks earlier. And right now the _It, _the orange, pudgy, annoyingly intelligent_ it, _was communicating only one thing. Curled up and smug from Hermione's lap. _Try it. I'll scratch your fucking eyes out._

**16. Purple**

It changed every day of course. But today it was purple. Employing all the stealth he had he stole one last glance at the strap that peeked, just so, out from beneath her white button down school blouse. His new favorite color was definitely purple.

**51. Water**

'Hermy-own, we haff been beingk friends for a longk time now, yes?' He had startled her when he'd asked, after being quieter than usual that evening. And she couldn't help the biting fear that he had finally realised how boring she was, and had decided that he didn't want to be her friend any longer.

'Thats right. A month now, I think.' She'd answered with nervous uncertainty, she'd grown to like him quite alot in the time they'd spent together.

'Vell, I vas vonderingk if you vould give me the honour of occompanyingk me to the Yule Ball?'

'M-me?' She'd stuttered. Had she been eating she might have choked. 'You could have any girl on the premisses and you want to go with me?' He grasped her hand gently across the table and smiled.

'I haff neffer met someone that is haffingk so little, how you say?....Self-esteem? I am seeingk underneath their surface. The fangirls are like streams, they sparkle but are haffingk no depth. They are pretty in their own vays and are tryingk so hard for me to notice, but i haff seen that....' She watched in fascinated silence as his brows knit in thought. 'Superficial? I think is right vord. I haff been seeingk their superficial charm often. It is entertainingk but forgotten quickly. But you, you are holdingk my attenion without tryingk. Your, your,' he tapped his fingers against the table in frustration. 'I am not knowing right vord but the vay you are holdingk yourself speaks, ''I am nothingk, please be leaffing me alone,'' but in your eyes I am seeingk somethingk ffvery different. They are haffing much intelligence there. A, restless?' He stalled, then nodded. 'Yes. Restless is right vord. A restless frustration asvell I am thinkingk. A loffly mix of knowledge and passion and there is much more inside of you that I am being vanting to get to know.'

'Oh.' Was all she could manage when he had finished. Her free hand had travelled to her heart, swelled with joy, on the back of his words and he sat staring with an intense anticipation. 'I would be very happy to accompany you, Viktor.' She finally answered.

'You vould? You vill come vith me?' He asked, seeming to sag back into his chair with relief.

'Yes.' She smiled.

'Good.' He grinned in return. 'I am beingk happy.'

**76. Rebirth**

'Many days ve just fly, very far. Ve go different directions everytime.' She had seen many looks of loving ecstasy on Ron and Harry in the face of quidditch. But none seemed to compare to the evident rapture on Viktor's when he spoke of flying.

'You enjoy it very much don't you?'

'Yes, very much. Ven I am flyingk It is like I am completely different person. A person vithout burden. Vithout bad thought, vithout bad feelingk, vithout responsiblity to anyvon or anythingk. Vhen I am flyingk I am free.' ....

**77. Lost**

....Nodding she contemplated freedom and could think of only Viktor himself and of her books. Of sinking into the comforting arms of knowledge and her all encompassing need to learn. Where with every turn of the page, every noted sentence she would shed the shackles of the self all but he expected of her and became someone else. Someone who's passions where ascetic and academic rather than hedonistic, who's drive and ambition where focused and pure, who's body came second always to her mind. She thought of losing herself in the heavy tombs of Hogwarts great library and could only smile. Reaching forward she grasped his hand in both of hers.

'I understand.'

**52. Fire**

She was fire. Though the very few that knew anything of her wouldn't think so. Then again the fewer still that ever bothered to look wouldn't have seen it anyway. He got the feeling that who she was on the inside was a far cry from the girl/woman portrayed on the outside. But he saw. She was passion personified and it roared and danced underneath her creamy, smooth surface. Stoked and rising with the consumtion of every book, of every conversation, and leaping forward, escaping out in the shine of her eyes as they talked, the bounce in her step from table to shelf, tomb in hand. With every sliding touch and heated kiss during rare time alone. Yes. She was deffinately fire.

**59. Food**

Viktor stared, eyebrows knit as she placed her half eaten sandwich down with an air of practiced finality. She had chosen a place well away from the beaten path of other students. Not because she really believed that some people were in the habit of monitoring her eating, but because she really did dislike eating in front of others. 'What?' She asked, though she knew exactly.

'You are not being eating much, are you?' She smiled wearily at his concern. At fifteen this was a tired conversation.

'Since I was very young food and I have been quite decidedly mutually exclusive.' He looked confused and she sighed, knowing that she had signed up for this conversation when she had decided that she wanted to be with him. 'No. I do not eat very much.'

**37. Sound**

Slightly exasperated Viktor removed the black button looking thing from his ear and leaned closer so she would hear him through the one in her own.

'Muggle lyrics are beingk fvery confusing,' he huffed.

**5. Last**

The Durmstrang ship was leaving soon and he had to be on it. Quick hands skimmed down as Viktor pulled away and inwardly she sighed; she had learned quite early in life the difference between a hug and a bone count and had hoped to have experienced the last of the latter years ago. Apparently not.....

**6. Fixed**

..... But that was to be expected she supposed and already it was happening. It hadn't been long since she'd told him but once they know, they know. What you did to yourself, what you were, what you are in danger of becoming again should you relapse. Their view of you changes. You are no longer the sum of your accomplishments and your failures. You are no longer Hermione Granger one third of the Golden Trio. Hermione Granger The Smartest Witch of Her Age. No label sticks so well, not in cases like hers, save the sorry label of 'sick'.

**41. Shapes**

Lovingly Hermione ran her thumb and forefinger against a silver pendant at her neck, contemplating it's twin hidden below layers of winter robes, thousands of miles away at Viktors. It curved and angled horizontally, and just a little askew, in the fashion of a pair of muggle theater masks. One hysterically happy and the other dreadfully sad. A silent but no less significant acknowledgement of each other and the characters they played to please others...

**42. Blind**

....It had been a parting gift. A token of love from the only person to ever really _see_ her. She never took it off.

**8. Windows**

The sound of knocking filtered through the victorious roars of Elves and Men alike. It was odd and out of place there for she was sure there were no doors here, aside from the giant wooden structure in front of which they had just battled. Then Mordor, horses and humanoid all seemed to melt. Like the clocks in that painting by that guy she could never remember the name of, and still she could hear it that infernal knocking. Mind still lethargic with sleep Hermione pulled back her bed covers and ambled in the general direction of the sound.

Hovering there outside her window sat Viktor. Shivering, and wet and looking thoroughly pleased with himself. Until she opened her window and he could more clearly see the mortification on her face.

'Viktor Krum did you just ride your broom all the way here from Bulgaria?!?!' She demanded in whispered exclamation. _Is he even aware of how many laws he just broke?_

'Uuuhhh.' He answered. 'No?'

**3. Ends**

It was over. Voldemort was dead. Leaving a seemingly endless procession of trials and blame and counter blame in his wake. And the funerals. Oh, God, all the funerals. Garbed in black and guilt she would squeeze her eyes shut, try to keep the words out. But they pushed their way through anyway. _Oh thank you god it's not Harry, Ron or Viktor._

**57. Home**

'Viktor! I've missed you.'

The familiar voice, attached to an oh so familiar witch snapped him from his reverie. They had kept in contact since the war, meeting once a fortnight at a cafe or pub to catch up. She beamed at him as she approached and he stood quickly, not only in a customary show of good manners. But for _this_.

_Whatever it is_, he thought, as she walked straight into his outstretched arms as if it were her Diety given right to be there. After four years of fortnights he still wasn't quite sure. It was always more personal than a friendship hug, but lacking any other evidence that it was meant as anything more. He smiled into her hair and breathed her in, telling her that he'd missed her too. It was always his favorite part of their meetings. It felt like coming home.

**99. Writer's Choice-Remember**

It came back so easily, like they'd last done this yesterday, instead of the years that marked their last coupling. It was hard and it was fast and she loved how unlike her usual self she was when she was with him. She loved that he was the only one that could make her forget herself. That he could have her moaning shamelessly up against a tree in a park late at night. That no one could make her _want_ quite as he did.

**29. Birth**

'There are very many. Are there meant to be so many?' He asked.

'From one Kneazle, no.' She began, glancing from basket to basket of wriggling fur then down at the orange ball of fur at her feet. 'But unfortunately Croockshanks is a gnats wing more popular than we first surmised.'

**31. Sunrise**

The first time she'd ever done _it _on a broom was at sunrise after a ministry party celebrating the end of the war. With Blaise Zambini. Subtly she threw a glance to her boyfriend, a smug smile gracing his angular features as he put his broom away. Not that she'd ever tell Viktor that.

**88. He**

She had profiled just about everything. She was, if she didn't say so herself, the best of the best. But for all her talent, for all her experience and for all her insight she could never predict _him_. It was part of why she loved him and, she thought, considering the kind of people she was used to chasing, definitely a good thing.

**13. White**

She had explained the white dress tradition in bed. Red cheeked and grinning with her ear to his heart, after her mother had mentioned it at dinner that night. He'd smirked like the cat that ate the canary at the irony of it.

**30. Death**

'Your wife is fine, .' His heart soared. 'But the foetus did not survive the impact.' And fell again. 'I am sorry.'

**71. Broken**

'Hermy-own, Hermy-own, Hermy-own.' Her name, panted reverently like the desperate worship of a goddess, only made her ground onto him harder. He had mastered its pronounciation years ago, but fell back into his broken english during moments like these. When they were sweaty and breathless and so, so close. It was the sexiest thing in her world.

**60. Drink**

Turning from view she swallowed and then grimaced. She hated water. Even now she couldn't stand the taste of it, it felt empty and sick. She remembers school before Hogwarts and the three glasses she'd have at recess and lunch after throwing away her food. The pain in her chest. The nauseating fullness. Almost in slow motion she turns back to the conversation. Celia and Albus are throwing a little red ball between themselves from the laps of their prospective sires and she smiles, and reminds herself of the people she is doing this for. The nutritionist had said eight cups a day. So that was what she was going to have.

**55. Spirit**

A soft thud sounds as Tsvetas bottom hits magically softened stones. Two metres away Hermione and Celia sit calling her forward as he picks her up and sets her on her feet again. With an exited bounce she squeals before setting a determined foot down, then another, and another. She'd been at it for hours and had made it abundantly clear that she'd be at it a few hours more, with or without them there to see to her safety. He smiled brightly with fatherly pride. _My girls got spirit._

**43. Square**

Tired and in need of a good cup of tea, Hermione apparated into the Weasely house to hear Celia playing in the garden.

'Uuuuummmm, a square?' Celia guessed, somewhat uncertain.

'Exactly!' She heard in response as she stepped out into the open. Lying along the grass in what was indeed the shape of a square, were eight garden Gnomes. Struggling quite without success against some unseen force. She watched Celia high-five Fred in proud excitement, heard Tsvetas' giggle from the large arms of George and wondered again why she had agreed to let the twins watch the girls. It had seemed like a good idea at the time.

**94. Solstice**

A flash of brown and black bobbed across the windowsill and she knew there would be no more quiet that day. The door swung open with a crash and she braced for impact smiling as it came in a tangle of giggles, arms and hair. 'How was it?' She asked, crooking a fond nod hello in the direction of her mother-in-law. Chaperon for last nights adventure.

'We got to dance Naked! under the full moon!'

**25. Work**

His head, almost a dead weight, rose and fell atop her breast with the effort of her breathing. He had spoken little since finding her, mangled and broken. Number eight in a long line of the same. She held him close as he shuddered desperate, silent sobs into her bosom.

'Legaly I must step down from the case. I can't work it now, not after Iskra. When we catch him his defence attorney would shout Conflict of Interest to anyone willing to listen. But I've recommended Harry in my place and with him as my successor nothing stops me from helping in an 'unofficial' capacity. We'll find him, Viktor. I promise you. And when we do he' will pay.'

**100. Writer's Choice - Close Encounters**

.....'Because he knows where to hide the bodies?'

Hermione tisked with a fond roll of the eyes and waved through the window at a tall shadowy figure as it slipped into the night.

'There are not going to be any bodies, Celia, give your father _some _credit....' A wry smile crossed her lips. 'If your father wanted him gone there would be nothing left to find.' They both giggled quietly and her own mother's eyes shone with mirth from the visage of her eldest child. She opened her arms and wrapped her in a warm hug.

'So, when I say we will be back by ten thirty that means....'

'I know, I know.' Hushed Celia, '....that Albus Severus is gone by ten twenty-five.'


End file.
